


Dr. Mesmero and Assistant

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cross-Generation Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hypnotism, Marriage, Married Couple, Seduction, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: A middle-aged couple invite their young new neighbors over to dinner.  Things get weird when the younger couple are then hypnotized by their hosts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged by an AOOO reader to write a story where a couple in their late 40s invite the new young couple on the block over for dinner, and then the young people are hypnotized. The premise was absolute gold and I couldn’t help but write it.
> 
> While plotting, I decided to whip up a companion piece about the dinner and what happens afterward, but from the younger couple’s perspective. That story is “Dirty Filthy Me.”
> 
> Finally, a completely different approach to the “older couple hypnotize younger couple at dinner” premise occurred to me, so I started from scratch and wrote “The Rich are F**king Us.” Same premise, completely different plot.
> 
> I’m releasing all three stories today.
> 
> \---NickelModelTales

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

**Ohio State University Campus, November 1975**

Man, this girl is sexy.

Even though the show is over, I’ve got her – Brenda – in a deep hypnotic trance.  She’s still displaying all the signs of being totally out; her body is limp, her eyeballs are rolled back in their sockets, under her heavy, closed eyelids.  Her body feels somewhat cool to the touch.  She’s still under, deep.

Its been a good night, I think appreciatively.  My buddies and I went to the Delta Kappa Mu kegger, looking forward to a night of drinking and general horsing around.  But when we get there, there’s a hitch; Stu, who was supposed to be bringing the booze, got caught by the campus cops.  So far, this kegger is dry.

So Steve, my best bud, loudly suggests that I should hypnotize some people for fun, at least while we wait for the emergency beer supply to arrive.  Sure, I’m game.  I learned hypnosis in high school, and I’m pretty good.  We gather a bunch of volunteers in the Delta Kappa Mu living room, and I go to work.

Soon I’ve got about twelve people in deep trances, doing whatever fucking thing I can think of.  The sober crowd loves it, especially when I make the guys into ballerinas.

One hypnotized girl catches my eye.  She is Brenda, a sophomore with a Playboy bunny’s body.  Nice tits, smooth tummy, long legs.  Bright blue eyes.  Plus, she’s platinum blonde.  Super pretty, possibly more beautiful than Britt Ekland.  Brenda went under hypnosis quickly and deeply, and I put her to good use in my show.

Singling out this bombshell, I convince her that her vagina has fallen off and she can’t find it.  Brenda goes for this suggestion hook, line, and sinker.  As I watch her search high and low for her lost vagina, I keep staring at her ass.  I am horny.

And right about then, the emergency beer arrives, and I start to lose my audience.  Two of my volunteers pop right out of hypnosis all on their own.  I know when its time to wrap things up, so I end my show without a grand finale.  No worries.  I’m relieved to be out of the spotlight.

But I keep an eye on that Brenda girl.  She awakens, rubbing her eyes.  Immediately she looks at me and blushes.  I see her left hand slip to her crotch to make sure, yes, her vagina is back where it should be.

The party shifts into a second phase.  I’m a little spent from performing, so I hang back, hoping I can find some good dope.  At one point, I wander about upstairs, looking to a bedroom where people might be lighting up.  I find the coat room and a bedroom with people playing poker inside.  No MJ party.

The forth room is empty.  There’s a twin bed, with folded laundry stacked to one side.  I sigh, and go to look out the window.  Did I hear my buddies tossing a football out on the lawn?

“Hey, Gil,” I hear behind me.

Its that Brenda girl.  She looks at me with a calm expression, her beautiful face hard to read.  There is a hint of a smile on her lips.  Absently, she moves a strand of that blonde hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” I grin.

“What you did to us…” she says, “that was amazing.”  I assume she means my hypnosis volunteers.

I study her body language carefully.  I think… she wants me.  She’s biting her lip.

Losing no time, I approach her.  I push the door shut, then slip an arm around her waist.

“Look into my eyes,” I command her.  She does.  I snap my fingers, and yell, “Sleep!”

Brenda collapses into a hypnotic sleep.  She’s even deeper than before.

I’ve had a few beers, so I’m not thinking as clearly as I should.  But I’m now convinced that this girl wants to get in my pants.

“In a moment,” I tell Brenda, “I’ll count from one to five.  When I reach five, you and I are the only two survivors on a desert island.  The sun is hot and you are very, very horny.  You have to get it on with me.”  Then I count her up.

Brenda wakes, extracting herself from my arms.  “Holy shit,” she exclaims, holding her arms away from her sides, as if she was baking in the imaginary heat.  She squints into the distance.  “Are we never gonna be rescued?” she asks me.

“I guess not,” I smirk.

“Okay, then,” Brenda says.  Without a word, she shimmies out of her bell bottoms and then her jersey.  Now that she’s in her underwear, I see that her figure is even curvier and fuller than I’d hoped.

Brenda shakes her head at me.  “You must be boiling under all those clothes,” she remarks.  Without waiting for an answer, she attacks me, yanking off my sweatshirt and then my tie dye tee.  I am instantly rock hard as her breasts rub up against me.  Then she drops to her knees, undoing my buckle and unzipping my pants.  She pulls down both trousers and underwear.  Whoa.

“Mmmm,” she comments, eyeing my cock.

Omigod, I have to have her.  “When I snap my fingers,” I tell her, “you are wet and you have to be fucked, **_now._** ”  I snap.

Brenda’s face blanks out for a second, but she swiftly grabs my cock.  “Get on the bed,” she orders.  “I have to fuck you.”

I’m not sure how this twin bed works into her desert island delusion, but I’m too aroused to care.  I clamor onto the mattress, shoving the laundry to the floor.  Meanwhile, Brenda is tearing off her panties, then her bra.  Man, she has some award-worthy breasts.

She flings her nude body at me, and we kiss.  Her hands scramble over my chest, my stomach, my arms.  I don’t work out, and am a little overweight, but a quick hypnotic suggestion convinces Brenda that I have the body of an NFL linebacker.  With a python-sized cock.

“I have to fuck you,” she says in lustful gasps, in between the moments she is kissing or licking my body.

I sit up, spin her around, and push her on to her hands and knees.  I haven’t been with many women, but I know enough about sex that the only position I care about is doggie.  One of the Delta Kappa Mu guys has a Ron Jeremy on 70 mm, and I noticed that in this movie, Ron only liked to enter his ladies from behind.  That’s the way for me.

Brenda seems thrown for a second, but she submits.  She assumes the position, arching her back and presenting her vagina to my hovering cock.  I grab her hips and start ramming.  Oh, I nearly squeal when my tip enters her!

Brenda is the fourth girl I’ve ever fucked.  My romance with the first girl ended badly – don’t ask – and the next two ladies were pretty good.  Brenda is the first time I’ve basically met a girl and went straight to the sex.  Getting physical with the other girls was somewhat awkward and messy and I didn’t necessarily feel like the stud I know I am.  With Brenda… Brenda and I are attacking one another like animals.  I see her naked body and all I want to do is deflower her.  The raw sexual lust is mind-warping.  As I fuck her, I feel positively high.

The door to the bedroom opens, and someone – I never see who – gasps, then blurts out, “Oh shit!  Sorry!” before shutting the door again.  I hear embarrassed laughter outside.

But I don’t care.  Brenda’s vagina feels sooooo good as I slide into her again and again.  I’m clamped onto her hips like I’m afraid I’ll be swept away if I don’t.

Brenda is panting, crying, “Ohhh…  Ohhh…!  Ohhh!!!   Ohhh God, Ohhh!”  I see her claw the pillow.  She leans back onto my cock.

And then I cum.  I grunt and bellow something XXX-Rated at the ceiling and hammer Brenda’s ass even harder.  She shrieks.  She is cumming too.

I fuck her.  Oh God, do I fuck her.  I keep ramming her even as my orgasm plays out and I feel myself start to deflate.

And then, the moment passes.  I pull out, feeling light-headed.

Brenda clamors around, moving like a crab.  I see cum juice running down the inside of her legs.  She touches my penis with her hand, and then begins hungrily licking it, as if it was coated in chocolate.

I bury my fingers in that almost-white blonde hair.  I think I’m in love.

*************************

 

**Thirteen Months Later**

**Ohio State University Campus, December 1976**

My midterm exams are finished.  Brenda still has one in General Chemistry, and I’m worried she’ll freeze up and bomb it.  No time to worry about that now; there’s work to do.

By lucky chance, that off-campus apartment we wanted suddenly became available.  Apparently the previous tenant got arrested for dealing heroin?  I’m not sure, but that scuzzbag is now behind bars.  The landlord, desperate for new tenants, has offered to let me and Brenda move in.  The rest of this month is free, as long as we assume the remainder of the lease.

So here I am, hauling boxes and garbage bags filled with our shit up three flights of stairs.  Its snowing outside, and there are still two more car trips until I am finished.  I hope this apartment is worth it.

The rental terms are a little sketchy, but I don’t care.  Brenda and I have been dating for a year, and the sex is hotter than ever.  I’m tired of pressuring my dormmate to get lost for a few hours so I can screw with my girlfriend.  She still lives with her parents.  We need an apartment to satisfy our insatiable sexual appetites.

Am I still hypnotizing Brenda?  Yeah, absolutely.  She loves it.  Under my power, she is convinced I am Burt Reynolds or Clint Eastwood in the sack.  She always gets so wet for Clint.  I also hypnotize her for better study habits, although I’m not sure those suggestions are as effective.

You’re probably thinking…  Did I hypnotize Brenda into becoming my girlfriend?  Honestly, I didn’t have to.  She and I have this thing, you know?  We just click.  We both like bad horror movies, cold pizza, fart jokes, and Elvis Presley.  She’s introduced me to skiing.  I’ve gone on more for-the-hell-of-it road trips with her than all my buddies combined.  None that that happened because of the hypnosis.

Speaking of hypnosis…  I’m a little worried about this new apartment because the rent is high.  Normally, Brenda and I couldn’t afford it.  But I’ve decided to take the plunge and do stage hypnosis shows.  I’ll charge $100/show and as long as I can get three gigs a month, we should make the rent.  I’m constantly developing new ideas for material.  Which reminds me… when Brenda gets home, I want to try my latest idea out on her.

I tromp into our living room, drop the boxes in my arms off to the side, and then flop on the couch.  Its fifty degrees in here, but I am sweating like a pig.  Goddamn.  My back aches.

“Hey Mesmero,” I hear my girlfriend’s voice.  I crane my neck around.

Brenda is standing in the doorway, her beautiful face pink from the cold.  She’s wearing my other coat – she always steals my clothes – and there’s something in her arms.  She’s smiling at me.

“How’d the exam go?” I ask.

“Eh,” she shrugs.  “How’s the move-in?”

“Oh…” I moan.  “Just great.  Are you done for the day?  I could use some help.”

“Of course, Gil,” replies Brenda.  She moves to sit next to me.  A stand of her hair falls across her face, and she quickly tucks it behind her ear.

I frown.  “Your exam was over two hours ago.  How come you’re only getting home now?”

Brenda smiles mischievously.  “Gotcha a move-in present,” she tells me, then leans forward.

The cloth bundle in her arms spills forward, and a golden Labrador puppy falls into my lap.

The little guy shakes his head, blinks, and stares up at me.  He tilts his head to one side, as if he is thinking, _Huh?_

I stare.  I’m a dog guy, and Labs are the best dogs in the world.  They’re very loyal.

“His name is Baxter,” Brenda tells me, unable to conceal her grin.

I melt with delight and grin back.  I really love this woman.

*************************

 

**Seven Months Later**

**Trotwood, OH, June 1977**

I allow myself to relax.  The show’s over, and my audience is applauding madly for me.

“That’s all I have, folks,” I say into the mike.  “Hope you enjoyed yourself, and remember…” I lean forward, pressing two fingers against the side of my head, “to **_STAY MENTAL_** …!”

It’s a corny sign-off, but the crowd laps it up.  I make one last wave, then bound off the little stage.

I am at Trotwood High, hypnotizing the senior class at the prom.  The band starts to play, and the kids get up to start dancing.  I am almost out of here.

Mr. Halendor, the vice principle greets me.  His face is glowing, clearly very happy.  He’s already given me my check, so there’s really no need for the two of us to talk.  But I’ve already guessed what he’s going to say.

“ ** _Great_** show, Dr. Mesmero!” he gushes, using my stage name.  I’m not sure I like it, but Brenda insisted it would serve me well.

The Vice and I make polite small talk.  He tells me how he’s never seen anything like what I do, and am I available for next years’ prom?  I make a mental note of the future booking.

I have to hit the road.  Its an almost two hour drive back to Brenda and Baxter.

As I hurry through the empty school corridors, I happen to see a prom couple necking in a corner.  Hey…!  I recognize the girl.  She was one of my volunteers.  I hypnotized her to believe she was Diana Ross.  She wasn’t a half-bad singer.

Although I’m late, I pause.  Man, I’d love to be sixteen again and making out with my prom date.

Those teens are really going at it.  The girl takes her beau’s hand and shoves it inside her strapless top.  If I wait just a little longer, they might start procreating.

The boy glances at me, then does a double-take.  “Oh shit!” he exclaims when he sees me.

The guilty teens spring back, certain I am about to bust them.

A naughty impulse hits me.  I rush up to the girl, and dramatically point two fingers at her.  Bela Lugosi did that in “Dracula,” and it always works on the hypnotically susceptible.

“When I snap my fingers,” I say to her dramatically, “you will have the **_biggest_** orgasm of your life the next time your boyfriend pleasures you.”

The girls stares back at me, eyes wide, completely transfixed.

I snap my fingers, loudly.  She blinks.

“Go find a room, kids,” I say over my shoulder as I turn and head for the parking lot.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m taking the on-ramp for Route 70.  I smirk to myself.  That girl was pretty.  A horny part of me is always tempted to seduce and fuck my female volunteers.

But I have Brenda.  Brenda is hot, so hot, and our relationship is closer than ever.  I think about her and think about banging her from behind, tonight.  I drive faster.

I head straight home.  Brenda, Baxter, and I are still living in that walk-up apartment, but I’m thinking we should move.  I’ve graduated from OSU and Brenda just has a summer class to complete.  Living off-campus is starting to get annoying; there’s no parking and no decent grocery store.

When I get in the front door, Baxter bounds over and nearly flattens me.  Good ol’ Bax.

“Hey!” I hear Brenda exclaim.  She pokes her beautiful head from the kitchen.  Two strands of hair fall before her beautiful face.  “Your timing’s perfect,” she tells me.  “Lasagna’s almost ready.”

I smile.  I can’t help it.  How did Brenda know I was craving lasagna?

*************************

 

**Eleven Months Later**

**Three Rivers, OH, May 1978**

I blush as Steve, my Best Man, finishes his story about how I once… oh, never mind.  Steve took his Best Man’s Toast a little too far, as I knew he would.  The wedding guests roar with laughter, craning their necks to see how embarrassed I am.

Steve replaces the mike, and my dad, who somehow assumed the post of MC, takes over.

“A toast,” he announces.

Everyone raises champagne.

“To Gil and Brenda,” my dad says.  “May they always together hold the happiness I see in them today.”

The guests mumble cheers.  I blush again, turning to my bride.

Oh, Brenda looks so beautiful.  We had next to no money for a wedding, but somehow she borrowed or bought enough raw material to make a stunning bridal gown.  I couldn’t believe it when I saw her.

She notices me gaping at her, and smiles.  She leans forward; we kiss.

And our guests cheer and applaud.

*************************

 

**Two Years Later**

**Clintonville OH, April 1980**

Baxter and I wait on the couch in our new house.  Bax senses I’m a little on edge, and watches me with deep concern in his wet eyes.  I rub his head.

The door from the bedroom opens, and Brenda steps out.  She is wearing the costume, a little number which is basically a sparkling one-piece bathing suit with a white collar, labels, and a tie.  The outfit also has high heels, matching evening gloves, and a top hat.  It hugs her figure nicely.  She needs to put her hair up, though.  That bit of hair keeps falling before her eyes.

Brenda looks doubtful.  “I don’t know, Gil,” she says warily.

“Turn around,” I ask her.  She twirls, slowly.

It looks good.  Sexy, but not too sexy.  As she faces away from me, I gaze at her ass, remembering that night we met, years ago.

I’m making a career move.  There’s not enough money doing high school and frat shows.  If I want to be the biggest stage hypnotist in Ohio, I need a bigger act.  Brenda and I went to Vegas, where we saw all the hypnotist shows.  I made her go up on stage to be hypnotized, so she could tell me what the pros’ inductions felt like.  But the one big takeaway was that all the Vegas hypnotists had a sexy assistant to help them.  I think that’s a good idea.

It took a lot of convincing that Brenda should join me on stage.  I’ll admit, I cheated a bit by planting hypnotic suggestions in her mind to help sway her over.  In the end, she was willing to try being my assistant.  If the money’s good and we can buy a house, I think she’ll agree to do it permanently.

She’ll learn to like it.  I’m sure of it.

*************************

 

**One Month Later**

**Downtown Columbus, OH, May 1980**

This is our first big show.  Tony, my agent – can you believe I have an agent now? – somehow got me booked as the hypnotist for the 1980 Shriner’s Columbus Convention.  I am backstage now, in my tux, furiously rehearsing my scripts in my mind.  This is a big, big, crowd.

Poor Brenda is already on stage.  As my intro music plays, she pretends to arrange the chairs for my volunteers.  She moves like a pro showgirl, bending over a lot and always pointing her tight little rear at the audience.  Also using a lot of exaggerated gestures.

The announcer gives my prep intro, and then its **_showtime!_**   I bound out on stage, determined to look confident and suave.  James Bond as a hypnotist, that’s me.  Well… I’ve gained a few pounds since college.  But I suck in my gut and imagine myself to be irresistibly attractive.

Brenda and I perform our little opening skit.  She sees me, and pretends to be awed by my presence.  I do the Dracula stare at her, and she acts as if she is going into a trance.

“Lovely Assistant,” I boom into my mike, “when I snap my fingers, you are a chicken!”

I snap my fingers.  Brenda opens her eyes, tucks her hands under her armpits, and begins clucking.

There’s a fair round of laughter from the audience.

I grin broadly, and then “hypnotize” Brenda to not be a chicken and be my sexy assistant for the evening.  She smiles, docile for me during the entire performance.

The show is pretty good.  I blow two skits, but I don’t think anyone, outside of my wife, really notices.

After, Brenda and I return to our street clothes in a tiny, stinky dressing room.  I’m pleased; we are $2,000 richer and it looks like we’ll be booked again in a week.

But Brenda is clearly annoyed.

“Good show tonight, eh?” I ask.

“I don’t want to do the chicken thing,” she scowls.  “Its humiliating.”

“But the audience loves it,” I frown.

“The **_men_** love it,” argues Brenda.  “The women look at me like I’m an idiot.  I hate it.”

I try to point out how the chicken bit sets a lighthearted tone for the rest of the show.  Its critical that we lead with it.

“I don’t care,” Brenda tells me.  “I’m not doing it again.”

*************************

 

**Seven Years Later**

**The SS Majestic, October 1987**

I have maybe three hours before my next show.  I’m too dejected to go back to my tiny cabin and I can’t mingle with the passengers any more.  Why did I take this gig?

I’m the stage hypnotist on a Tropic Adventures cruise.  This is maybe the sixth or seventh cruise I’ve done, but it’s the first where my heart just isn’t into it.  Sure, the money’s great, but hypnotism at sea just isn’t much fun.

My shows are attended by patches of senior citizens, most of whom remember Pat Collins (“The Hip Hypnotist”) from the 1950s.  I try to deliver a show along those lines, but man, its hard.  Its also tough hypnotizing a bunch of geezers who use hearing aids.

Maybe I miss Brenda, I think ruefully.  Its been a year since she refused to be Dr. Mesmero’s sexy assistant, and the show hasn’t been the same.  Brenda is back home, taking classes to become a social worker.  I resent her a little for abandoning my show.

But it would be nice to see her smile.  I wander down to the ship’s telegraph office on the off-chance there’s a message from her.

“There is,” the telegraph boy tells, and hands me a small envelope.  I tear it open:

**HOPE CRUISE IS FUN STOP HAVE BAD NEWS STOP HAD TO PUT BAXTER DOWN CANCER WAS TOO PAINFUL STOP SO SORRY WELL GET ANOTHER DOG WHEN YOU GET HOME STOP MUCH LOVE B STOP.**

I crumble the paper, angry for poor Baxter.  I thought he looked haggard when I packed my bags!  Didn’t I tell Brenda to take him to the vet right away?  Why did she wait until now, when it was too late?!?

Depressed at the fate of my dog, I wander the lower corridors.  Because I’m not a passenger, I’m technically allowed down on the service decks, although there’s no reason for me to be there.

I hear voices in a room and pause before the open door, curious.  There, clustered around an open porthole, are five members of the wait staff, smoking cigarettes.  They glance up at me.  They are all quite young, probably twenty years old apiece.

“Hey, it’s the Hypno Guy,” one of the young men says.

I greet them with an awkward “Hi.”  Jesus, I’m, like, a dozen years older than they are.

The prettiest girl, named Stephanie, I think, casts an eye over me.  “Hey man,” she says, half-joking, “can you hypnotize me to give up cigarettes?”

I gaze at Stephanie.  It would be so easy to put her in a trance, convince her to come back to my cabin, and then shag her rotten.  I imagine a naked and sweating Stephanie, in the throes of absolute pleasure, as I continue ramming into her from behind.  In my imagination, I can see her bare, cute little ass before me.  Hot.

“Maybe later,” I force myself to say.

*************************

 


	2. Chapter 2

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

**Seven Years Later**

**Clintonville OH, March 1994**

“Listen, Gil, I’ve gotta talk to you.”

There’s something in Tony’s voice which makes my stomach constrict.  I stop pacing and sit on the couch.  I’m in the living room of my house, and I’ve been trying to get Tony on the phone for weeks.  I need my next gig.

“There’s no nice way to say this,” Tony tells me.  “I don’t think I can represent you anymore.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.  “What… whaddya mean?” I growl.

“I gotta be honest, Gil,” Tony says.  “I’m just not getting a lot of call for hypnotists.  And when I do… well, the client wants something new, fresh.  Something from the MTV Generation.”

His voice softens.  “I like your act,” he consoles me, “but its like when you get on stage, you still think its 1975 or something.  Those old-school Vegas acts are yesterday.  Have you actually watched your competition?”

I haven’t.  But I can’t believe that this is the end of the road for Tony and me.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says gently but firmly.  “We had a lot of good laughs, but sometimes…  Well, take care of yourself, man.”

He hangs up.

Brenda looks up from her computer.  She’s trying to catch up on casework by putting in weekend hours.  Her hair is a mess, falling before her eyes for the millionth time.

“Bad news?” she asks lightly.

I feel a surge of rage.  I want to put the phone through the wall.  Gritting my teeth, I let Brenda know what’s happened.

She nods, already turning back to her monitor.  “I’m sorry, honey,” she says absently.  But she doesn’t sound sorry at all.

*************************

**Four Years Later**

**Clintonville OH, February 1998**

I sigh as I settle into my cubicle.  I put a big ol’ framed picture of Brenda where I can easily see it.

Max, my new boss, swings by my desk to ask how I’m settling in.  We make small talk, then he gives me my first assignment.  Mr. and Mrs. Bellwether of Hideaway Hills.  Been customers of Camelot Tax for twenty-two years.

I look over the Bellwethers’ lives on paper.  A part of me is withering inside.  Five years ago, I was still Dr. Mesmero, hypnotizing people for three thousand a show.  Now look at me.  I couldn’t get that clinical hypnosis business off the ground, and what did that leave me?

Accountancy.  Ugh, God help me.

Brenda would tell me there’s no shame in good, steady work.  She’s right.  But somehow, I can’t help feel like my life is amputated.

I spend a few minutes feeling sorry for myself… then shrug it off.  Lemonade from lemons.  Determined to make the best of things, I go to work on the Bellwethers’ charitable deductions.

*************************

**Six Years Later**

**Clintonville OH, August 2004**

I park my Civic in the garage and grab my briefcase.  Its hot and dark out.  My head throbs, and I decide I want an aspirin.

I come in the side door, and for a moment, I dimly hope that Baxter will somehow be there and spring up to see me.  That dog was **_always_** happy to see me, no matter how rotten life got.  Brenda and I had talked about getting another dog when Baxter passed, but somehow, we never did.  She always seemed too busy or distracted – or pissy – whenever I brought up the topic.

The house is dark, and too late, I remember that Brenda is working evenings this week.  I scowl, tossing my briefcase on the kitchen table.  I think there’s a few of those frozen Sirloin Steak TV dinners I like.

While I’m nuking my meal, I’m distracted by the sound of giggling outside.  The heck…?

Our kitchen has an extended breakfast nook, and from there, you can see pretty much in all directions.  I squeeze my bulk into the booth, leaning towards the window, looking for the source of the giggle.

Oh, I see.  Brenda mentioned that we now have new neighbors.  Frank Hwong finally gave up trying to sell his house, so he leased it to a young couple.  Today was their move-in date, I guess.  From where I’m sitting, I can see through clear through into their dining room.

Yes, I can see them.  God, they’re young.  Like, I wonder if either of them are old enough to drink yet.  The guy is tall and thin, with long, wavy hair and a solid chin.  He is shirtless, and man, he looks good without his shirt.  I never looked so good, even when I was his age.

Then I see his girlfriend and my jaw drops.  Holy shit, is she hot!  Its been a long, long time since I’ve seen such a body or beautiful face.  The girl has long, brown hair sloppily tied up about her head.  Her neck, arms, and legs are long and graceful, and she’s wearing the tiniest shorts and a tank top which barely covers her assets.  Shit, as she playfully raises her arms, I think I see the bottom of her tits peak out.  That’s a lot of bare midriff.

I break out into a sweat and scramble to get my glasses.  I’ve put on more weight since I took a desk job, so it takes me a whopping sixty seconds to get to my briefcase and snatch my lenses.  As fast as I can go, I am back at the breakfast nook window, out of breath.  I squint through the glass, praying the couple remained before their dining room window.

The girl is dancing, twirling about in a sexy way, obviously trying to tease her boyfriend.  He grins, enjoying the show, occasionally swatting her ass.  She shrieks in delight and mock outrage.

I’m getting so hard just watching her.

Then girlfriend wraps her arms around his thick neck, and they kiss.  Long, deep, hard.  I see both of them work their jaws as their lips caress one another.  Boyfriend’s hands drop down and lift up girlfriend’s tank top… although his body is blocking my view of those magnificent tits.

The girl reaches for something… and then the lights snap off.

I stare at the dark house, hoping for some sign, some glimpse of nudity or even fucking.  God, I’m so horny.

The microwave dings, but I couldn’t care less now.  I rush upstairs, determined not to waste this boner.  I fire up the computer, wait impatiently for Windows to load, then dial into AOL.  I search for the nude picts of Pamela Anderson, the ones freeze-framed from her sex tape with Tommy Lee.

It takes ten minutes before I find the porn I want.  I pull down my pants, apply Kleenex, and start whacking.  Pam’s blurry image is still hot, but I’m thinking about my sexy new neighbor.  Especially that thin waist and those DD’s.

No… its too late.  The computer took too long.  My hard-on’s gone.  I need to wait for my boy to fully deflate before I can fire him up again.

Simmering with resentment, I play Microsoft Solitaire.  Right now, my new neighbors are fucking like porn stars, and I’m here with my fat belly, my shriveled dick in my hands, and Pam Anderson.  How did I get reduced to this?

I think back to my last cruise ship.  There was that girl, Stephanie, who wanted me to hypnotize her.  Why didn’t I?  Why didn’t I mesmerize her and then fuck her raw?  I wouldn’t be sitting here now, having regrets about the hot girls I didn’t bang, that’s for sure.

*************************

Brenda gets home, looking tired.  The lines in her face have etched themselves a little deeper.  Her hair, once platinum blonde, looks nearly silver in the electric light.  That one strand which keeps falling over her face drops yet again.

I smile, hoping she’s in a good mood.  Thinking about our sexy new neighbors has made me hopeful for a little mattress mambo myself.

Brenda reheats dinner, then has a beer.  We watch “Survivor,” and I find myself staring at all the young women in bikinis.  Finally, its time for bed.

While she’s in the bathroom, I light some of her favorite incense.  We used to have a CD player in here somewhere, but I can’t find it now.

When Brenda enters the bedroom, she’s wearing full pajamas and I can tell she’s put in her nightguard.  I’m on the bed, naked, playfully covering myself with a pillow.

“Oh,” Brenda says when she sees me.

I flash one of my award-winning smiles.  “Its been a long time,” I remind her.

“I was thinking…” Brenda says, “do you think we should have gotten the extended warranty on the dishwasher?”

I’m not getting through.  Maybe some dirty talk will work?

“Fuck the dishwasher,” I growl.  “I want to fuck **_you_** …!”

The ends of my wife’s mouth turn down.  “Eh…,” she says.  “I’m really feeling gassy, Gil.”  When my face falls, she adds, ”Can’t we just cuddle or something?”

“Com’on,” I half-coax, half-moan.

Brenda scowls, scratching her forehead.  “Fine,” she allows.

I go into full seduction mode.  After she spits out the nightguard and climbs into bed, I unbutton her PJ top and play with her breasts.  The girls have drooped over the years, and Brenda has jiggly love handles over her ribs.  I pretend not to notice.

I lie on top of her and kiss her, but she doesn’t really kiss back.  In fact, she keeps turning her head so our lips never actually meet.  Whatever.  I make sure to press my hard dick against her crotch so she can feel how hot I am.

Shit, I can feel my hard-on deflating.  Ten minutes already?  I have to work fast.

I yank down Brenda’s bottoms and those awful grey granny panties she likes these days.  Why can’t she wear the skimpy stuff that she used to?

Now its time to fuck.  Ohhh, yeah.  I grip her hips, propelling her up on to her hands and knees.  Her ass is smaller and flabbier than it used to be, but I don’t care.

“Wait, wait,” Brenda suddenly interrupts when I’ve nearly got her in position.  There’s no lust or passion in her voice.  “I can’t,” she snaps and tears herself from my grasp.  She flops onto the bed and rolls away from me.

I can’t believe it.  We haven’t had sex in… well…  Christmas?  (Can that be right?)  She wants to leave me with blue balls now?

For fuck’s sake!  We’re Gil and Brenda!  We used to shag like rabbits nine times a week!  Our friends used to ask us if anything was wrong if we weren’t making out whenever their backs were turned.

What the fuck???

*************************

The next morning at breakfast, Brenda and I barely acknowledge one another.  There is a moment of tension when we each grab for the coffee maker, but I back down and let her have the last few drops.

Brenda sits in the breakfast nook, staring out the window, lost in thought.  I lean in to kiss her on the cheek before I drive off.

“You know,” she says absently, tucking her hair behind her ear, “we have new neighbors in Frank Hwong’s house.”

She looks squarely at me.  “What do you think about inviting them over to dinner?”

*************************

 

Brenda handles the arrangements.  We will host our new neighbors this upcoming Friday.  She is preparing squid with lemon, spring mix salad, white wine, and some little h'orderves that are basically soft cheese on melbatoast.  I’m responsible for vacuuming and setting the table.  I’m not sure why this is my job, but whatever.

The entire week, I’m getting hard just thinking about our nubile guests.  Well, specifically thinking about that hottie girlfriend, and especially thinking about her suckable tits and legs.  Ohhhh God, she makes me stiff.  I’ve been hopefully watching for her every time I look outside.

Brenda is strangely quiet and withdrawn, but I’m still pissed at her behavior from earlier, so I ignore her.  When we talk, its largely to quibble over the Friday night particulars.  She wants the tablecloth and the linen napkins; I think these dumb kids won’t notice or care.  She wants me to rearrange the living room furniture so we all don’t sit facing the TV.  And so on.  She’s strangely on-edge about every detail.

I swallow my resentment.  Maybe the sex-goddess and I will run away together, I fantasize.  Leave behind my stupid wife and Camelot Tax and Clintonville Ohio forever.

It’s a nice thought.

*************************

 


	3. Chapter 3

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

**Friday night**

I get home early, and am surprised to see Brenda is already home.  She’s rearranging the living room, goddamnit.  I thought we agreed it was fine the way it was???

Fine.  I ignore her some more and set out some wine bottles.  It occurs to me that soft jazz might be nice, so I pull out my box of LPs from college and select a nice Gerald Albright.

“You’re playing **_that?_** ” Brenda says, dismayed.

I turn around.  She’s hopped in and out of the shower, and is now wearing a slinky party dress and her gold necklace.  Her hair is pinned up in a neat bun, save for that one rebel strand.  She’s actually popping in earrings as she frowns at me.

I reluctantly snap off the record player.

“Please wear something nice,” Brenda nags.  She starts dismantling my wine display.  “I would like to impress our guests.”

Oh man, she’s really asking for it.  I jut out my jaw, but retreat to the bedroom.  What does she expect, I’ll swoop down the staircase in a tux and tails?

When I finally do return, our neighbors have arrived.  Brenda is seating them on our sofa.

Wow.  Now that they are mere feet away, I can feast my eyes.

The boy is tall, taller than I first thought.  He is built with muscles on this upper body, and I briefly wonder if he is wearing shoulder pads.  His sandy hair is long and wavy and he uses way too much conditioner.  His face is angular but quite handsome.  The guy is wearing a plaid button-down shirt, beige cargo shorts, and open sandals.  He looks relaxed and handsome and happy.

I hate him immediately.

But sitting next to him…!  Ah, sitting next to him is the sexy goddess.  She is just as I remember her; thin, graceful, but with enormous breasts and oh-so-curvy hips.  Her brown hair has been tied into an enormous braid which snakes around her thin neck and comes to a rest over her deep cleavage.  Her cheeks are round and rosy, and she still has some of her baby fat in her face.  I could get lost in her eyes; big, round, soft, delightful.

The girl is wearing a simple, flowered summer dress, a one-piece which drapes over her curvy figure, down her hips, and cuts off just above the knees.  She must have slipped it over her narrow shoulders and it fluttered down into place from there.  There isn’t even a belt.

When she hears me coming, the girl swings her face in my direction.  Our eyes meet.

My heart leaps.  Oh man, she’s even hotter in person.

For a moment, I think back to when I first saw her.  I am picturing this luscious young woman eagerly humping the boy in the darkness of Frank Hwong’s dining room.

I need to sit down fast, before anyone notices how stiff I am.

“Hi, how are you?” I say, smiling broadly.  “I’m Gil Mathers.  Welcome to the neighborhood.”

The boy and girl rise and each extend a hand.  The boy is Josh.  And the girl…

“I’m Stephanie,” she tells me with a pleasant smile.

Stephanie?  No way.

We four sit down, all the best of friends.  Josh and Stephanie snuggle on the sofa, intertwining their fingers.  Stephanie crosses one long leg over Josh’s calves.  Brenda and I sit across from them, in the matching easy chairs.

Josh and Stephanie look at us.

Brenda and I look at Josh and Stephanie.

The grandfather clock ticks.

“Hey,” Josh mugs, “nice place you got here.”  He nods, as if bestowing his approval.

“Thank you, Josh,” Brenda replies.  “You and Stephanie are new to Clintonville?”

“I grew up around here,” Stephanie says.  “And Josh’s family is in Delaware.”

“Yep,” Josh confirms.

“Yeah,” echoes Stephanie.  “Delaware.”

I glance at Brenda.  I am sensing a long and painful evening in front of us.

But my wife smiles knowingly.  “So tell us about you guys,” she says invitingly.  I’m guessing this is the soothing voice she uses on her clients.

Josh and Stephanie are OSU undergrads.  Josh is aiming for business administration and technology, and hopes to start an Internet company.  He seems more ambitious than capable, but maybe that’s because I dislike him so much.  Stephanie is an Early Ed student.  “I’d like to teach kindergarten, maybe first grade,” she ventures.

Josh and Stephanie smile at Brenda and myself, and we all go back to staring at the carpet or the walls.  Man, this evening is off to a bad start.

“Hey,” Stephanie says suddenly.  “Is that you guys?”

She is looking over my shoulder.  I swivel around, and realize she’s spotted one of my old show photos, framed on the far wall.

Josh hops up and ambles over to the picture.  In it, Brenda and I are posing in our stage costumes before my marquee.  I think that pic was snapped the night of the ‘80 Shriner’s Convention.  Wow, that was… almost a quarter century ago?

“’ _Dr. Mesmero and Assistant’_ …” Josh reads, and then swivels about to look at me.  “This was you?” he asks.

“Let me see,” Stephanie insists, and joins her boyfriend.

All four of us gather around the old photo.  I can’t remember the last time anyone’s noticed it.

“You were a… magician?” Stephanie asks, not getting it.

“Stage hypnotist,” I say.  Why do I feel embarrassed?

Josh points to Brenda in her skimpy costume.  “And this was you, Mrs. Mathers?”

“That’s me,” Brenda admits.

“Wow,” Josh compliments.  “You were hot.”

Stephanie slaps him in the ribs, hard.

“So you put people asleep and made them do stuff?” Josh yuks at me.

I nod.  “Yeah,” I say.

“Seriously?” Stephanie asks.  “Like what?”

“Oh, you know… whatever I desired,” I brag a little.  I gestured to Brenda.  “At the beginning of each show, I made Brenda here think she was a chicken.”

“A chicken?  No way…!” Josh chortles.

I am taken aback when I see Brenda’s expression has hardened.  Her eyes blaze at me with a quiet fury.

Whatever.  You can’t change the past.

“Tell me, Josh,” Brenda says abruptly.  “Do you have a big cock?”

“Wha…?” Josh asks.  “Do I have a…?”

I’m not sure I heard that right either.

“Let me try something, Josh,” Brenda says, calm and in control.  She extends her hands, palms up.  “Look at me, Josh.  Stare into my eyes.  And press down on my hands, and hard as you can.  Can you do that?”

“Uh…” Josh says, fixing his gaze on Brenda.  His hands float up to obey her instructions.  “Yeah, sure, I…”

“Now push down, Josh,” Brenda orders him.  “Push as hard as you can…”

Josh applies his upper body strength, but he’s unable to force Brenda’s hands down.  He never breaks eye contact.

My own eyes widen as I realize what Brenda is about to do.

All within a second, Brenda pulls her hands out from under Josh, while grabbing his forehead and shouting, “Sleep!”  Josh’s eyes widen in shock, but then roll back in their sockets.  His arms go limp and his head rolls about on his neck before falling forward on his chest.  He’s out.

**_Holy shit._ **

Brenda has just done an instant induction, the most difficult and risky way to hypnotize a person.  The basic idea is you fixate your subject with something visual (her eyes) and something physical (her hands).  Then when they are momentarily confused, you “shock” them (physically surprise them) while commanding them to sleep.  The unprepared person, caught off-guard, drops into deep hypnosis in under a second.

No kidding, it’s a thing.  Look it up on that new YouTube website.

Here’s the thing:  Only **_expert_** hypnotists can do this induction.  It took me years to learn it, and only after a lot of failed attempts.  How did Brenda master it?  Fuck, when did Brenda learn to hypnotize?

Brenda steps against Josh, whispering in his ears, while gently rocking his head.  Stephanie and I gape.

Then Brenda counts, snapping her fingers right in the jock’s face.  Josh opens his eyes, but I can tell he’s still out.  Brenda takes him by the hand, and leads him away.  Josh follows her as a sleepwalker.  Towards the staircase.  Up to our bedroom.

As she ascends, Brenda glances at me.  Her eyes are full of fire and defiance.  Her expression says, _Fuck you.  I’m doing this._

And then my wife leads my hypnotized neighbor into our bedroom and shuts the door.

“What… the fuck… just happened?” Stephanie asks aloud.  I’m not sure she’s talking to me.

But it’s a good question.  I’m filled with outrage and disbelief.  What the hell is Brenda doing?  Seriously, what the fuck is my wife doing?  Is she about to screw that stupid musclehead?  Is she throwing away twenty-six years of marriage for a hypnotized one-night stand???  **_In our bed???_**

I’m beside myself.

“Seriously, what just happened?” Stephanie asks me.  “Why did Josh go upstairs with your wife?”

I hear Brenda’s muffled voice: “Oh…  Ohhh…  OhhhhhHHHH!!!”

Stephanie’s jaw drops with shock.  “Are they fucking?” she asks.  This time she does ask me.

I eye the girl, stewing in my own sense of rage… and lust.  Brenda is fucking behind my back?

Fine.  Two can play at that game.

“Let me explain,” I say to Stephanie.  “Give me your hand.”

When a hypnotist works their magic, there’s a certain way they speak and use their body that makes a subject reflexively compliant.  You rapidly tell a subject stand here / look at this / think only of that / remain still / follow instructions, and they are already falling under your sway.  It’s an authority thing.  People are naturally submissive to outward authority.

Fully bent on my own desires, I use that authority on Stephanie now.  She’s already a little befuddled, so it should be easy to put her in trance.

Stephanie offers her right hand.  I grab it, pulling it up and facing her.

“Look here,” I command her.  “Look at this spot on your hand right here.  Did you know your hand is magnetized?  The more you stare at this spot, the more your hand is magnetized to move toward your head.”

Stephanie stares at her hand.  It floats before her, as if she has no more control over it.

“The more I snap my fingers,” I tell her, “the stronger the magnetic pull becomes.  When your hand touches your face, you drop into a deep hypnotic sleep.”

“Wha…?” poor Stephanie asks, but its too late for her now.

I snap my fingers in a random pattern, telling her how that hand is drawing closer, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.  And its true; Stephanie struggles a little, but that hand is in my control, not hers.  She stares as it approaches her in slow motion.

Now for the “shock.”  I grab the hand and push.  At the same time, I slip an arm around her and shout, “Sleep!”

Stephanie crumples in my arms.  She’s limp as a rag doll.  Deeply hypnotized.

I stare at my conquest, still angry, but letting the sexual thirst inside me grow stronger.  I think of all the non-Brenda women I’ve hypnotized over the years.  Stephanie will make up for all of them.

But how best to seduce her?  I have to get creative.

I could just take the direct approach and command Stephanie to do precisely what I want.  _Stephanie, when you awake, you will have the most irresistible urge to fuck me!_   But that could backfire.  Sometimes when you tell a hypnotized person to do something outrageous, their mind rebels.  I can’t risk that.

There are other ways.  I could convince Stephanie I look exactly like her favorite rock star.  That doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll fling herself at me, however.  I could tell her that she believes the world will end if we don’t get horizontal.  That could work, but then she’d be screwing me out of fear.  I want her to want me out of chemical desire.

Ah.  I have it.

While gently rubbing Stephanie’s forehead with my free hand, I tell her, “When next you open your eyes, you will find that your deepest sexual urges have been awakened.  All your inner sexual desires, no matter how deep nor how filthy, will bubble to the surface of your subconscious.  You will find yourself expressing all your deepest cravings, your darkest lusts.  There is **_nothing_** you can do to suppress those feelings deep within you.  When I awaken you, you are your true sexual self.”

A add a few more posthypnotic suggestions to trigger her fervor, but that should do it.  My every reading of Stephanie suggests she’s a very sexual person, at least on a subconscious level.  These suggestions will coax that sexual tigress to the forefront.

I count up, and Stephanie’s eyes flutter open.  She blinks, looking at me and then stands up on her own.

When a person first comes out of hypnosis, their conscious minds needs a moment to reorient itself and assert control.  Stephanie is doing that now.  I can already tell; she won’t remember going under, nor will she remember anything I said to her while in trance.

Perfect.

“How do you feel?” I ask, as if making small talk.

The girl blinks, considering the question.  “Fine,” she replies.  “Relaxed.”

I nod.  Its amazing to me.  Whenever you bring someone out of trance, you’re immediately supposed to ask, “ _How do you feel?_ ”  Almost to a person, everyone responds, “ _Fine.  Relaxed._ ”

That means I got to Stephanie’s mind.  I’m in.

“Okay,” I say disarmingly.  “Let’s sit.”

Stephanie allows me to place her on the couch, and I sit next to her.  Time to activate her.

I place her hand into my right palm, and then begin gently stroking it with my left fingers.  “Mind if I do this?” I ask innocently.

Each time I touch her like this, Stephanie gets aroused.  I see her expression momentarily go slack as the posthypnotic goes off.

And then the girl lunges against me, kissing me.  Her eyes slowly close, and she wraps those sexy arms about my neck.  I’m stunned, even though this is exactly what I was expecting.  I taste her tongue, let my own eyes closes, and embrace her.

Oh, Stephanie.  I feel her breasts against me.  In a moment, I’ll be feeling them in my hands.

We kiss.  Deeply, like we’ve just met but are madly in love.  Our hands wander over each other, and I’m delighted that she moans and sighs as she explores me.  My body is, well, not that trim anymore, but hypnosis has ensured that she won’t mind.  She’s really getting off.

Stephanie suddenly pushes me onto my back, and I am lying on the couch.  She mounts me, then – oh man – lifts that sun dress up and over her head.  I stare at her; I can’t stop myself.

And then the girl is ripping at my shirt, yanking it up my torso like a madwoman.  I quickly move to help her.  There’s a moment of embarrassment for me when it comes off. But Stephanie doesn’t care.  She sucks on me, continuing her soft little groans and whimpers of pleasure.  Man, she’s **_really_** hypnotized.

Stephanie hops off me and within seconds has undone my belt and fly.  Her speed is impressive!  She pulls, and before I know it, I am completely nude on the couch.  God, this is hot.  So hot.

Like the sexual animal I know she is, Stephanie flies to my cock, gripping it by the base and slurping it into her mouth.  I almost lost control as unbelievable pleasure ripples through my body.  Stephanie’s head bounces up and down on me, and while she’s a little harsh – maybe she’s inexperienced? – she is doing something to my balls that drives me wild.

I feel my legs twitch, and I cum, like a cannon firing.  The force of my orgasm is just incredible.  No kidding, I’m amazed I don’t blast her into the ceiling.  I hear Stephanie huffing through her nose as she gobbles up my load.  I cry out, wordless babbles of happiness.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… God.  My juice courses through me like a river burst from the dam.

Then I feel the orgasm fade.  I’m gasping for breath.  Oh man…

Brenda used to suck me off like that.  Years ago.  Actually, her touch was subtle.  Stephanie is rougher, like she has a take-no-prisoners mindset once she’s aroused.

I feel myself settle back onto the couch.  My eyes are a little crossed, but I know I’m spent.  So good.

“Get up,” Stephanie snaps.

I look up, still a little disoriented.  Stephanie has lost her panties, and my God!  She’s fingering herself while looking down on me.  As I groggily stare, she removes her bra.  Her face is awash in sheer, animal lust.  I’ve never seen such an expression on a woman before.

I force myself to get up.  Dimly, I wonder if I shouldn’t put Stephanie back into trance and end this.  After all, I’m satisfied, right?

But Stephanie is a force of nature, not to be denied.  She half-climbs on the couch arm, deliberately pointing that shapely ass in my direction.

“Touch me,” she commands.  “Fucking touch me.”

The tone of authority in her voice is like steel.  Now I am the one who meekly complies.  I place my left hand on her butt while my right hand reaches between her legs and into her vagina.  Stephanie grunts and quivers as I touch her.  I see a bead of sweat roll down her forehead.  Actually, her naked back is glistening with sweat.  Its sixty-eight degrees in here, and Stephanie is fogging up the mirrors.  Wow.

“Ah…!  Ahhhh!!!” she sobs, gritting her teeth.  I must be doing a nice job of pleasuring her.  I’m also starting to get aroused again.  I didn’t think I could get a woody so soon after cumming like I did!

Stephanie thrashes her head and her body bucks under my touch.  “No, no,” she snarls.  And then:  “Fuck me hard, daddy!  Give it to me so hard.  Fuck me right in the ass.”

I instinctively freeze.  She wants me to… what?

“Fuck my butt!” Stephanie yells, and then at the top of her lungs: “ ** _DO IT, BITCH!!!_** ”

Oh man.  I only do doggie-style, like my man Ron Jeremy.  I can’t – I can’t do anal!

When did sex get so demanding and confrontational?  Stephanie has grabbed the alpha role in our tryst so far, but I can’t let things continue on their present course.

I quickly clear my throat and use my hypnotic voice to tell her, “When I snap my fingers, I will come in your pussy, but you will be convinced I am fucking your ass.  It will be as sexy and pleasurable as you can imagine.”

Snap!

Stephanie blinks once.  The suggestion took.

Wasting no more time, I push apart her buttocks and insert myself into her pussy.

“Whhhhaaaaaaaa…!” Stephanie wails.  Her eyes close in pleasure.  “Oh mommy…!” she gasps.

I’ve got this.  I begin thrusting into her, clinging to her hips with all my might.  I plunge in again, again, again, again, again, slapping myself against her perfect butt.  My stiffie feels wonderful inside her.

Stephanie pushes against me, and she nearly knocks both of us back onto the floor.  That thick braid of hers flails around as she tosses her head.

“Pull my hair,” she gasps.

I fuck her harder.  My own erection is starting to give out, I need-

“Pull my hair, pull my hair **_NOW!!!_** ” Stephanie bellows.

Oh shit.  I begin to cum again.  Concentrating as best I can, my fingers catch her braid and I tug it once.  My orgasm-

“ ** _PULL IT, YOU FUCKING PUSSY, COCKSUCKING SHIT!!!_** ” screeches Stephanie.  “ ** _MAKE ME YOUR SLUTTY WHORE, YOU FUCKING RATDICK!_** ”

Oh my God.  This girl scares me.

I grab her hair again and wrench it like I’m ringing a church bell.  I’m afraid I hurt her, because her back arches.  She screams like a banshee.

Stephanie howls as her arms and legs give way.  She topples forward, into a pile on our carpet.  I stagger back, dropping onto the couch.  Thank God my orgasm is finished.

My young neighbor writhes on the floor, dipping her fingers into her pussy and fingering herself like crazy.  She convulses, kicks, and gasps as her own pleasure blossoms.  Man, that must be one hellava orgasm.

I feel my own muscles give out, and I sit in a flabby pile on the couch, unable to move.  I watch Stephanie ride through her pleasure, amazed at this girl’s sex drive.  Finally, she is still.

Brenda never had this much energy.

Brenda.

For the first time since hypnotizing Stephanie, I think of Brenda.

Oh God.

I happen to glance up the staircase, and there, as if summoned by my mind, are Josh and Brenda, looking down on Stephanie and me.  They are both nude.  Josh is still entranced and non-responsive.  Brenda folds her arms and her mouth thins as she and I make eye contact.

At my feet, Stephanie groans, finally coming to a stop.  She sighs, and glances up at me.

Time to conclude.  I command Stephanie to go back into hypnosis, and she tumbles back into sleep right on the floor.

I grab some tissues and wipe my slimy penis.  After that workout, it’s already fast shrinking, and I don’t think I’ll need it for a week.

I force myself to look at Brenda again.  My Brenda.  Soon to be the ex-Mrs. Gil.  I can’t believe it.  I should feel accomplished, satisfied, elated at banging such a hot chick less than half my age.

But I don’t.  I feel… empty.  Ashamed.

Why should I feel ashamed?  **_She_** cheated on **_me_** first!

Brenda casts her eyes downward, then looks at Josh.  “Sleep,” she tells him, with a wave of her hand before his eyes.  Josh’s eyes close as he completely surrenders.

I climb to my feet, grunting.  The older I get, the harder it is to stand up, goddamnit.  I move to the sofa, and put Stephanie back into trance.

“When I snap my fingers,” I tell her, “you will open your eyes, sit on the couch, and then remain perfectly relaxed.”

Stephanie obeys my instructions.  Brenda instructs Josh down the stairs and then to sit next to her.

The two twenty-somethings are now on our couch, both naked, both with blank expressions and glassy eyes.  Brenda and I, also naked, stand side-by-side, leaning over them.

“Sleep!” I command Stephanie.

“Sleep…!” Brenda tells Josh.

Our guests’ eyes sag shut.  They collapse on one another, Stephanie flopped on Josh’s lap, and he over her back.  One big pile of hypnotized nudity.

I glance at Brenda.

“In a moment,” she tells both Stephanie and Josh, “we will count from one to five.  One the count of five, you both will awaken.”

I know what to say.  “You will put on your clothes,” I tell them.  “You will immediately go home.”

“When you get home,” Brenda picks up after me, “you two will make love like never before.  You will both have the best sex of your lives with each other.”

I’m on the same wavelength.  “And then,” I instruct, “you will both fall into a deep, deep sleep.  You will not awaken until tomorrow morning.”

“When you awaken,” says Brenda, “you will firmly believe that you had a nice dinner at our house.”  I smile a little as she describes the menu in detail.

“Otherwise, nothing will seem amiss in your memories when you think about this night,” I conclude.  Nice touch.

Brenda and I look at each other.  We both know; this is all that needs to be said.

“And now…” Brenda instructs, “I will count to five.  On five, you both will open your eyes but remain hypnotized.  You will immediately will carry out all these hypnotic instructions without question or hesitation.  Understand?  Very good.  One… two…”

I listen to Brenda.  Despite my fury at her, I have to admire her hypnotic voice.  She has great control.

“Five!” Brenda says, snapping her fingers.

Stephanie and Josh come to life.  They climb to their feet, looking puzzled but not alarmed.  I hand Stephanie her dress and she accepts it without acknowledging me.  Josh returns upstairs, and reemerges in his clothes.

Then, without a word or a glance back, both twenty-somethings walk to the door and are gone.

*************************


	4. Chapter 4

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

  

Brenda and I stand in the living room, completely naked, neither saying a word.  She doesn’t look at me.

I am watching her from the corner of my eye.

Finally, Brenda frowns, shakes her head, and heads upstairs.

I watch her go.  When she is halfway up the staircase, something in me snaps.

“What the **_fuck_** was that?” I bellow in rage.

“Shut up, Gil,” Brenda replies, still not looking at me.

I hurry after her, and get to the bedroom door before she can shut herself in.

“You filthy whore,” I hiss.  “How **_dare_** you screw around on me?”

“Oh?” Brenda spits back.  Now she is angry.

But now I’m letting the anger flow, like water from a tap.  “Yeah!” I growl.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” snarls Brenda.

“I didn’t fuck around first,” I say.

“But you wanted to,” Brenda fires back.  “You’ve wanted to for almost thirty years.  Well, tonight, I gave you my fucking permission to dip your dick in someone else.  Congratulations.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.

Brenda rolls her eyes.  “Gil,” she says plainly.  “You talk in your sleep.  Always have.  And know what you talk about?”

The color drains from my face.

“That’s right,” Brenda spits at me.  “You talk about all the innocent little women you’d like to mesmerize and fuck.  You know how horrible it felt when you would come home from a tour, didn’t so much as kiss me hello, but then you hit the hay and you’re sleep-talking about Betsy or Wendy or Talia or I don’t know who else and all you want to do is make them your fuck-ladies?”

She fixes me with a terrible stare.  “Fuck-Ladies.  Your term.  Not mine.”

I open my mouth, then close it.

“Yeah,” I protest, “but I didn’t fuck any of them!”

“No,” she admitted.  “But you came close.”

“You still cheated on me first!” I bellow, determined to justify my anger.

“Oh fuck off, Gil,” Brenda snarls.

She sits on the bed and crosses her arms and legs.  Her body is still naked, and there’s a tiny part of me which still admires her in the buff.

“You put yourself first, before us,” I accuse, certain I am on solid ground here.

“Really?”  Brenda’s gaze is fiery again.  “You think this marriage has been equal until today?”

I sense a trap, but am too furious to care.

“Yes!” I blurt out.

Brenda breaks into a gale of angry laughter.  “Oh, please, Gil!  We’ve **_never_** been equal!  You’ve **_always_** put yourself first!”

I open my mouth to argue, but Brenda springs to her feet, stabbing a finger at my face.

“For fuck’s sake,” she explodes, “we met because you **_hypnotized_** me into having sex with you!  And you **_kept_** doing it!  If I ever wasn’t in the mood, too fucking bad, Brenda, one quick hypno-programming and I’m your willing little slut!  I never chose when we had sex, it was always you!

“And while we’re on the subject,” she rolls on, building up steam, “when we do have sex, its always doggie!  Always!  You’ve never heard of any other positions?  I fucking hate doggie, but did you ever bother to ask?  No!  Never!  You had to be Ron Fucking Jeremy and do me, your willing little girl, doggie style all the time!

“And its not just the stupid sex, Gil,” thunders Brenda.  “You put yourself first for everything!  Did I want to wear that stupid costume and be your stupid showgirl and waste my twenties fawning over you like an idiot on stage?  No!  Jesus Christ, if I ever wanted to go to the movies with my girlfriends on a Friday night, you acted like it was a fucking betrayal and guess what?  I had to do your stupid show.”

“But…” I begin.

“Shut the fuck up!” barks Brenda.  There are tears streaming down her cheeks, but her rage hasn’t boiled over yet.  “For Christsakes, Gil… you made me do that **_stupid chicken routine_**.  Do you know how fucking humiliated I was when the women in the audience saw that?  I’m amazed you didn’t want me to flash my tits.”

She is sobbing now, but still trembling with fury.

“You never ask my opinion on anything!” she rages.  “Never!  We have fucking steak every week because you love it, but we never have fish!  **_You_** pick where and when we go on vacation, and you never ask me if I have any other ideas.  For crying out fucking loud, you blame me for Baxter… when you could have taken him to the vet yourself at any time.  Poor Baxter was **_both_** our faults.

“For Gods’ sake,” Brenda gasps, “do you know that not once…  **_not once_** …  have you asked about my day or the work I do at the office?  I’ve been a dedicated, accomplished therapist for fifteen fucking years, Gil, but not once have you **_bothered to care._** ”

She collapses back on the bed, sobbing openly.

I am floored.  I am angry, but…  I must admit…  most of what she has said is true.

Totally true.

I can’t say a word.  I stand there, in the middle of my bedroom, naked as the day I was born.  I feel naked.

“After the last time you tried to fuck me,” Brenda says, in a miserable voice, “you went to bed and sleep-talked about how you wanted to hypnotize and fuck the new neighbor girl.  And I thought, Why not?  Why not let him?”  She throws up her hands in exasperation.  “I mean, my fucking marriage is obviously dead anyway, why not end it with a bang?  You hypnotize and nail that hot young thing that’s teasing your dick, and I might as well have some fun myself.  Fuck it all!”

She sobs some more, this time in silence.

I no longer feel rage.  I’m aghast at how my life has led to this miserable moment.

Brenda cries, holding her face in her hands.

I don’t know what to say.

Brenda’s tears dry up.  She sniffs.

“You know what the worst part is?” she sniffles.  “I don’t feel happy at all.”

I nod.

“Me either,” I say.

It’s the truth.

Brenda glares at me.  “How is that fucking possible?”

I gesture helplessly.  “I don’t know…” I say, wishing I had some time to think about what to say.  “I just…”

Brenda is listening closely, but she still looks mad.  “What?”

I picture Stephanie’s nude, sweaty body.  I don’t feel accomplished at all.

Brenda furrows her brow.  “What?” she pushes, an edge in her voice.

“I wish I’d never touched her,” I say.

“Yeah,” Brenda sighs.  “I wish you’d never either.”

More silence.  Excruciating.

“What do we do now?” I ask.  I’m all out of anger.  I just want this awfulness to be over.

No.  That’s not what I want.

I think of a spring day in 1980, the day I asked… er, made Brenda try on the showgirl costume for the first time.  At the time, I knew she was unhappy about it, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t fucking care.  _She’ll grow to like it,_ I told myself at the time.  _And if she doesn’t, well, this hypnotism act is what’s putting bread on the table.  She’d better like it._

Now those words sound callow and arrogant.  How am I only seeing this now?

“All of these years with me have been so horrible?” I ask, dismayed.

“No, not horrible, Gil,” Brenda sniffs.  “Deep down, you’re a good guy.  You’re just really, really, really fucking insensitive.”

Brenda seems spent.  She sits, not moving, listlessly staring at the dresser.  Absently, she moves that rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

I don’t know what to do.

Wondering if she’ll tear my head off, I sit next to her on the rumbled bed.  Our bed.  I sit maybe six inches away.

We say nothing.

Finally, I can’t stand the silence.

“How was Josh?” I ask.

Brenda snatches a tissue and blows her nose.  Loudly.  “Josh?” she asks.  “Honestly?  Lousy.  All thrust, no subtlety.”  She blows again.  “And her?”

“Stephanie?” I ask.  I am silent for just a heartbeat.

“She was pretty… scary,” I admit.  “Not sure I liked that.”

Brenda snorts.  “I’ll bet.”

“But she wasn’t you,” I finish.

More silence.

“How did we go so wrong?” I asked.

“How?” Brenda growls.  “Because you think you’re always in charge.  About everything.”

I see a way, a risky but worthwhile way, to start again.

“Look,” I say.  “What if I gave you a way to be in charge?  I mean, really the one holding the wheel?  Could we try that?”

Brenda looks at me.  At first, I think she’s about to tell me to go fuck myself, but she is studying me very closely.

“You’re serious,” she murmurs.  She sounds surprised.

*************************

“Okay, lie back,” Brenda tells me.

It is a week later.  The two of us called in sick from work, locked ourselves in our bedroom, and talked for **_hours_**.  We left only to shower, get food, and use the bathroom.  Otherwise, we stayed.  We argued.  We struggled to remember details.  We cried, sometimes apart, sometimes together.  When we were too tired to talk any more, we slept.  For days.

I’m not sure we resolved much, but somehow… I feel a little better.

After we returned to the real world, we decided to resume our usual schedules and wait to see what happened.  And now, we’ve decided to go back into the bedroom.

I promised her I’d give her a way to be totally in charge of our relationship, if only for one night.  It’s time for me to make good on that promise.

I am sitting on the mattress, Brenda directly behind me.  We are both in our pajamas.  She’s sitting cross-legged.

I lie back as Brenda requested.  My head is now in her lap.

“Good,” Brenda says, brushing hair off my forehead.  “Now… close your eyes.”

I do so.  Brenda starts her patter, telling me how relaxed I feel and how much more relaxed I’m going to become.  I am terrified of what happens next… but I’m determined to see this through.

I could resist.  I could pretend to be hypnotized and try to fake the whole evening.  But I promised that I wouldn’t.  I want to show her how important this is to me.

So I let go.  I allow her words to relax me.  I feel my body slip into a blissful state, and soon my thoughts are slipping away too.  I feel free, without a care.  Brenda’s velvet words slip into my mind, and I follow them without any fear.

I remember nothing for a time, although I’m aware of Brenda, constantly speaking to me from somewhere.

Then, I hear her counting.  I feel my body coming back to life.  As she says the number “ten,” I am blinking in the bright light.

I slowly sit up, gathering my scattered thoughts.

Brenda is watching me carefully.  “How do you feel?” she asks.

I open my mouth.  My mind goes completely blank.

“Buk buk buk buk **_b’GACK!_** ” I cluck.

Brenda explodes into a gale of laughter.  “I’m so sorry,” she giggles.  “I couldn’t resist!”

I wonder what’s so funny.

My wife settles down and leans closer.  “Let me fix that,” she whispers.

Then she snaps her fingers before my face and says, “ ** _Loverboy…!_** ”

My mind clears.  Suddenly, I realize that Brenda is nineteen years old.  How did she transform herself into a teenager again?  She looks beautiful, and oh so sexy.  More beautiful than Britt Ekland.  Just like the day I met her.  I stare, unable to take my eyes off her.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she says playfully.

I reach for her, and realize that somehow I am twenty years old myself!  Holy shit!  I inspect my body; there’s no doubt.  My skin is smoother, softer, wrinkle-free.  My waist is tinier and my muscles pumping with so more energy.  I could run a marathon, right now.

I gaze at Brenda.  I have no idea how she worked this magic, but I don’t care.  I throw myself at her.

She laughs again, in delight at how much I want her.  We tear off one another’s clothes.

Firmly, she has me lie down on the bed, face up.  Her graceful hand plays with my cock, and I am amazed as it positively sings in celebration at her touch.  I love her so much.  She grins, mounts me, and we fuck each other like rabbits.

Cowgirl position.

*************************


End file.
